


The Courtship of Cadrin Brosca

by nalathequeen2186



Series: Branded [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cadrin Brosca, F/M, in which cadrin and zevran struggle with their libidos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nalathequeen2186/pseuds/nalathequeen2186
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadrin is interested in Zevran. Zevran is interested in Cadrin. But she's not letting him into her tent just yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beauty

_Beautiful_ , he called her.

It probably hadn’t meant much more to him than a one-off compliment at first. He was such a flirt - not only with her, but with nearly everyone else in the camp - that it was hardly surprising he was making passes at her too. But the comment had still caught her off guard.

Cadrin didn’t think she’d ever been called beautiful in her life. It wasn’t much of a concern in a place like Dust Town, outside of the women (and occasional man) who tried to change their fortunes by whoring themselves out to nobles hoping to produce a child of their own sex. Even aside from the fact that casteless were generally considered ugly by the mere existence of their brands, Cadrin wasn’t exactly a Paragon of dwarven beauty. Dwarves, at least Orzammar natives, tended to favor exaggerated features - large eyes, wide noses, full lips, prominent cheekbones. Rica certainly fit the bill, which was why she had been the one to become a noble hunter, but Cadrin, with her relatively small nose and eyes, was usually overlooked. She’d had a few Carta men try to pursue her - two of them, she’d even allowed to - but choices among those in Dust Town were admittedly limited, and and she was pretty sure even Leske had only ever been interested in sleeping with her because she bared her teeth every time he so much as glanced at her sister.

But up here? She’d already noticed that on the surface, or at least in Ferelden, small features seemed the pinnacle of attractiveness, on women if not men. Generally only dwarven noblewomen wore makeup, but here even some of the peasant women were wearing soft, dusty colors on their eyes and lips. And while Cadrin didn’t bother putting much effort into her appearance, a few people had already expressed apparent attraction to her.

This damned elf being one of them.

She couldn’t understand it. She should have disliked Zevran from the start. Most people would have despised an assassin, never mind one that had tried to assassinate _them_ , and he certainly made no apologies for his line of work, nor did he downplay the fact that his life as a Crow had been rather full of fine things - “wine, women, and men,” as he described it. And yet Cadrin simply couldn’t find it in herself to hate this part of him. From the sounds of it, he had been as trapped within the Crows as she had been as a casteless in Orzammar.

Fine things were exactly the reason why she had always hated the idea of Rica becoming a noble hunter. Cadrin’s plan had been to protect her, to rise high enough in the Carta that she could provide for them through sheer intimidation - but Rica had taken things into her own hands by going to Beraht. Aside from the feeling of shame at not having been able to protect her sister from this, from seeing her have to flatter and worship at the feet of the privileged and sleep in their beds, the knowledge that if Rica succeeded they would live the rest of their days (or rather, her patron’s days) in a palace was somehow the worst part. Living in the lap of luxury, with all the food they could eat and fancy clothes they could wear, would have been greatly tainted by all the invisible strings attached. Still at the whim of the upper castes, just less visibly. Don’t step out of line, or it’s back to Dust Town with you.

The more Cadrin talked to Zevran, the more she realized they had in common.

She didn’t tell him any of this, of course. She was still determined to bury her past, even with that dull pounding anxiety buried deep within her, nagging at the back of her mind in their quieter moments, that she would have to return soon - soon! - to negotiate the dwarves’ help with the Grey Warden treaties. She would have been forever content to let her friends assume she really had been exiled from Orzammar for a hilarious prank on the warrior caste, which was how she had explained her recruitment to them. As far as Zevran knew, she was nothing more than a particularly overzealous - and lucky - prankster who had managed to stumble her way into the ranks of the Grey Wardens.

So they talked, and flirted, and talked some more - usually about his past, sometimes about her impressions of the surface world. When he had first called her beautiful, he must have been struck by her surprise, because afterwards he made every excuse to compliment her. She was beautiful, gorgeous, ravishing - and she was tough, and powerful, and deadly. It wasn’t all about her looks. His compliments spoke to the most confident parts of her - her skill in battle - and then added _more_ to that. Here, on the surface, among the humans and elves, she could be beautiful. Not something she had ever expected would happen, but something she would certainly enjoy while it lasted. Especially when it was coming from the mouth of an elf as handsome as Zevran Arainai.

She didn’t lose her head. She knew flattery when she saw it - someone as suave as he could surely charm his way into anyone’s pants with the right combination of words, if he so wished. So if he was telling the truth, and she truly _was_ beautiful, then she was going to make him work for it.


	2. A Friendly Duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cadrin challenges Zevran to a duel, not anticipating the way this might affect their friendship.

Several weeks and at least two crises after his attempt on Cadrin’s life, everyone in their party had grown slightly more comfortable with Zevran’s presence. He and Leliana had begun to swap tales of outrageous noble behavior in Orlais and Antiva (which Cadrin was only too happy to listen in on in amusement), Sten had stopped keeping as watchful an eye on him every minute of the day, and Alistair no longer glared distrustfully across the fire at him. Zevran, for his part, had kept his word - he’d made no aggressive moves toward any of them, they had yet to wake up with their throats cut, and the worst he’d done to their food was add enough spices to make everyone’s eyes water.

So as soon as she felt it wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows from the others, Cadrin went to him with an idea in mind.

They hadn’t fought anyone or anything in almost a week, and it was keeping her constantly on edge. The middle of a Blight, and she couldn’t sense any darkspawn nearby. She knew they were probably just out of range - they were traveling further north by the day, after all, making their way through various parts of the Bannorn, whereas the darkspawn were still mostly ravaging the southern lands - but it still made her twitchy, constantly on high alert. Frankly, she needed an outlet for her energy.

Zevran was it. Although maybe, she thought wryly, not in the way he might prefer.

She took her opportunity one night after they had made camp, after noticing that neither of them had yet bothered to change out of their armor (it was, after all, comparatively more comfortable to lounge in leather armor than metal plate). Zevran was sitting close to the fire, which he usually did, complaining of the cold in southern Thedas. Cadrin took a breath and approached him, daggers held loosely at her sides.

He turned to look up at her with interest.

“You and me,” Cadrin said, feeling slightly foolish. “We’re gonna fight.”

At that, a surprised smile spread across his face. “Well now,” he said, sliding his thumb along the flat of one of his own knives. “This is unexpected. What have I ever done to deserve this kind of treatment from a lady such as yourself, I wonder?”

“I’m no lady and you know it, Zev,” she said. Behind her, she heard the others stirring slightly, beginning to take notice of this small spectacle. “We’ve been walking for days with nothing to fight. So, you and me are gonna fight.”

“So when there are no darkspawn or bandits about, you target poor innocent me? Such cruelty.”

Cadrin snorted. “Get up, or I’ll tell everyone you were too scared to fight me.”

He smirked, and she watched him impatiently. Apparently he was going to make her work for it. “You have already bested me once in combat. Is that not enough for you, my dear Warden?”

“So then this is your chance to prove your ability, isn’t it?”

At that, he stood, looking truly intrigued now. “A duel, then, is it?” he asked. “A test of skill, perhaps? Or a friendly exchange of technique?”

“Why not all three?” Cadrin stepped back to allow him some room, and nearby backed into Alistair, whom she hadn’t noticed approaching.

“Wait wait, are you two actually serious?” he said. “You’re just fighting? Just like that?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t you ever spar with the other recruits, when you were a templar?”

“I mean, yes,” he said, watching with a slightly unsettled look as Zevran took his place across from Cadrin. “But when I think of a duel, I think of two guys in suits of armor going at it with swords and shields. I don’t think - ”

“Ooh, a duel? How exciting!” Leliana said, coming up next to him and nudging his arm slightly. Cadrin could see Morrigan watching with a fair amount of interest from her usual isolated corner, and Wynne shaking her head slightly and smiling from across the fire.

Cadrin stepped away from them into a more open space, where she and Zev would have enough room to fight, and gripped her daggers tightly. Flutters of anxiety started running through as she watched Zevran ready himself from across their impromptu arena. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he would see it as a threat. And she hadn’t even considered the thought of everyone else watching them fight. In the heat of battle, no one judged her fighting style - but everyone here had had formal training of some kind or another. What if her previous victory over Zevran had been pure blind luck? But she couldn’t call it off now, she thought, glancing back at the others. They had an audience, and she didn’t want to look weak -

Everyone’s eyes widened, and she spun on instinct, dagger coming up. It barely blocked the slash from Zevran’s own. _Fuck_ , he was fast. And fought dirty.

As Alistair called “Hey, that’s cheating!” and Leliana squealed in delight, Cadrin forced his dagger away, and use his moment of imbalance to kick, just hard enough to send him stumbling back a few feet. _No turning back now_.

“You can’t just cheat!” Alistair said again. Leliana shushed him.

“You have obviously never witnessed a duel between two rogues, my friend,” Zevran said, giving Cadrin a quick wink. She mock-scowled at him. “There _is_ no such thing as cheating in battle.”

“Good to see Antivan Crows are just as shady as the rest of us,” Cadrin said as they began to walk a slow circle around each other.

“I aim to please,” he said, and then struck again.

He was quick, and deadly. They danced around each other in a whirl, dodging and slashing. He had an element of grace that she lacked - but she made up for it in sheer force. She was definitely stronger than him, and used that to her advantage. His fancy bladework would nick under her defenses, only to be slammed aside a second later. When they broke apart after several more adrenaline-filled moments, they were both panting.

“You are very good indeed,” Zevran said. “Am I right in sensing a certain amount of self-taught skill?”

Cadrin quirked an eyebrow at him. “That’s right. And _you’re_ all fancy technique.”

“I will admit to working better under under cover of stealth. Strike first, remain unseen, that sort of thing? Whereas you are clearly the more suited to a stand-up fight.”

“I _am_ a Grey Warden.”

He grinned and nodded his concession, then twirled his blade. “Again?”

Amid gasps and occasional cheers from their onlookers, they matched each other blow for blow, knives flashing. It was a much quicker and more vicious fight than one might see in a more traditional duel, and Cadrin reveled in the thrill of it. No dumb brutes, or diseased darkspawn - no spoiled warrior showing off their muscles in a Proving arena, just someone else like her. More technique, but less experience. He danced, and she lunged, and it was beginning to feel like it would end in a draw when she made her first misstep.

One of her feet landed too close to his, and he took the opportunity, sweeping her feet out from under her with one of his own. She landed heavily on her back but kicked sideways as he came down on her, sending him sprawling out beside her. Before he had time to recover, she was straddling his chest, one hand pinning one of his wrists to the ground, the other pressing the flat of her blade to his neck.

There was a moment of silence, then cheers from their audience. “Perfect!” Leliana yelled, and Cadrin started to laugh. It wasn’t until her eyes met Zevran’s still pinned underneath her, that she realized they had recreated the ending to their first fight nearly blow for blow.

She climbed off him quickly and offered her hand, and he took it after a moment, rising and dusting himself off. “Well done,” he said quietly amidst the chatter, and while he was smiling she could see in his eyes he’d had the same thought as her. She wondered what else he was thinking. Was he angry? Busy remembering the circumstances of his current situation, under oath as he was to serve her?

Cadrin tried to shake off her thoughts and replied, “Uh, same to you. That was pretty fun.” She turned to the others, who were watching with interest, and added, “All right, party’s over. That’s the entertainment for tonight.”

“I thought it was brilliant,” Leliana said.

Alistair nodded. “It was certainly very… enlightening.”

“Ohh, come on, Alistair.” Leliana nudged him. “This is just how rogues fight. Maybe you can convince Sten to try a more traditional duel with you?”

They drifted off, bickering good-naturedly, leaving Cadrin and Zevran alone. She had thought it perhaps impossible for there to be an awkward silence with him around, but he seemed just as lost for words as she felt.

“Uh, I’m gonna go change into normal clothes now, if that’s all right with you.”

“Of course.” He nodded, suddenly reverting back to his normal self. “Ferelden may be bitterly cold, but a good fight does tend to make one sweat, yes?”

They retired back to their respective tents briefly to change, and once they emerged ended up in their normal spot by the campfire. They talked and laughed as normal, but there was definitely something different this time. Something about that fight had subtly changed the dynamic between them, and she couldn’t tell if it was for the better or worse. Did he hate her? Respect her? He was so impenetrable. She hated not knowing.

“…even used the same technique as before. I can’t believe I fell for it twice,” Zevran said, jolting her suddenly back to reality.

“Hmm?”

“I was saying that we could learn a great deal from one another. Say, if we were to combine our strengths - my finesse and skill, your strength and experience in a fight - we would be an unstoppable duo!”

“Work as a team, huh?”

“Exactly! I watch your back, you carve your way through our adversaries. Imagine the kind of assassin I could be, and the Grey Warden _you_ could be, with such technique.”

“It’s certainly something to consider,” Cadrin said. Maybe things had changed for the better after all, if he was interested in exchanging fighting methods. “And I can’t say I hate the idea of dueling you again.” She glanced around the camp - by now, most of their companions had either retired to their tents for the night, leaving just her, Zevran, and Leliana across the fire, quietly strumming the lute she had picked up in Redcliffe.

When Zevran next spoke, his voice had lowered considerably. “And perhaps next time, we work with not as much of an audience, yes?”

Her heart began to beat rather fast.

He was doing _that thing_. Staring at her with half-lidded eyes. Using that low tone of voice he must _know_ had an effect on her, because she always found herself crossing her legs rather tightly whenever he slipped into it. He had moved slightly closer almost without her noticing, and despite the chill of the night air, she was suddenly far too warm.

And he was too close.

“What do you mean?” she said, trying to match his tone and refusing to look at him straight. He wasn’t going to win this one yet.

“Well, my Warden,” Zevran said, and he was so close now she could feel his breath warming her ear, “while a public performance is all well and good, sometimes one might want a little more _privacy_.” He nearly purred the last word. “After all, how are we to practice our technique if others are watching? Throwing off our balance, breaking our concentration? Imagine how much _more_ we could do once we’re alone.”

_Fuck_. Cadrin felt blood rushing to her face, among other places. When was the last time someone had so easily disabled her with their voice alone?

He leaned in even closer and half-whispered, “What do you say?”

Cadrin sucked in a breath to steady herself, and then suddenly felt a smile cross her face. Why shouldn’t she go along with this, for now? So instead of responding, she turned her head and kissed him.

 Either he had expected this, or he was remarkably quick on the uptake, because his lips parted immediately. His fingers brushed along her jaw, and she shivered. This was nothing like the frantic, messy kisses she’d shared with the men she’d slept with before - Zevran was pure heat and pleasure and the faint taste of spices and she didn’t want it to end. His tongue slid briefly into her mouth and _great ancestors_ , her resolve was wearing quickly and if they didn’t stop soon -

That thought wrenched her back to herself and she abruptly drew away. Somewhere along the line, the lute had stopped, and a quick glance across the fire told her Leliana had quietly left the scene. And Zevran still had that look on his face, the one which she had to fight not to let it affect her.

She needed to clear her head before this went any further.

So she flashed him a wry grin, which he began to return, and said, “Not tonight.” And then she stood, and stretched, Zevran’s face betraying a moment of genuine surprise from where he sat staring up at her. “Our little sparring session tired me out a bit. I should probably get some sleep before we head out again tomorrow.

“As you wish,” he said. His unperturbed mask had slid back into place, disappointment hidden, but he shifted a little. Cadrin happened to glance a little lower, and was suddenly overcome with the urge to giggle wildly at the sight of his pants, which were no longer as comfortably loose as they once had been.

“Sleep well yourself!” she managed, then ducked quickly into her tent to burst into silent laughter.

So she had as great an effect on him as he had on her. He may be able to hide his facial expressions better, but his body betrayed him. She realized that he must have been waiting for her to make the first move, and assumed from the kiss that tonight would be the night, only to be taken aback at her abrupt departure. It was a test of willpower, of whose frustration would overcome their self-control first. Cadrin wondered just how much she would be able to frustrate him before he finally gave in.

**Author's Note:**

> So just a little note about the title - it's a reference to the old Star Wars EU book "The Courtship of Princess Leia." This reference exists for no other reason than that I used to be a big reader of the Star Wars EU novels. Not sure how well known that particular Star Wars novel is, so I thought I'd make a little note of it for those who are curious. :D


End file.
